


Make the Fireflies Dance

by Death_Herself



Series: SpideyPool Quickies [4]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: 90's Music, Break Up, Cutesy, Deadpool POV, Declarations Of Love, Fluffy, How Do I Tag, Hurt Bucky Barnes, Hurt Steve Rogers, I'm Not Ashamed, Implied Relationships, Karaoke, M/M, POV First Person, Sassy Peter, Song Lyrics, Tony Angst, Tony Loses His Mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-09 04:02:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8875180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Death_Herself/pseuds/Death_Herself
Summary: Deadpool, here! So, I love karaoke more than anyone else in the entire world. When the Avenger’s sent me an invite to one of their notorious karaoke nights, I agreed without second thought. I did however ask my little Hawkikins if one EterPay ArkerPay would be there.Yeah, my break up with the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man wasn’t so friendly. As long as I keep away from him like he asked everything will be hunky dory!I know! Who is the author trying to fool?  She wants you to know this is like... uber cutesy and she's very embarrassed.  Pshhhh.





	

Okay, so. I, Deadpool, love karaoke more than anyone else in the entire world. When the Avenger’s sent me an invite to one of their notorious karaoke nights, I agreed without second thought. I did however ask my little Hawkikins if one EterPay ArkerPay would be there.

Yeah, my break up with the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man wasn’t so friendly. Something about, “All you care about is sex! As much as I love fucking you and vice versa, I’d like to have a boyfriend not a fuck buddy.”

Ouch, right? That may have been a day long argument about my lack of commitment, horrible habits, frequent two week AWOL status, and how I make everything a joke. It was a mutual split but it’s not what I wanted. Really, I didn’t like making him feel anything less than amazing and special.  
Peter won’t answer any phone calls or texts since our split three months ago. Well, that’s not true. We tried being just friends two weeks after the split. That ended with me tethered down to his bed with webbing while we hate fucked. Yeah, I may have been pitching but he was angry catching and controlling the whole situation.

Seeing Spider-Man out on partol after that ‘accident’ was horrible. He threatened to throw me off the roof if I didn’t leave him alone from then on. So, I followed his condition, as well as him. I can’t help it, he’s THE one. I’m just…me.

A buzz in my hand pulls me out of this lame backstory explanation.

 **Hawkikins:**  
**I don’t think so. No confirmation.**

 **Me:**  
**Thanks, boo.**

 **Hawkikins:**  
**See ya in a bit.**

 

  
In a bit he did see me, cause here we are! The little sad excuse of a stage they have in the wide hall is lit. Like lit. Four Shure GLX-D microphones sit in their stands on the stage glowing with Martin Moving Head lights that look like the bad boys I almost bought, but didn’t cause $31K stage lights in my shit hole apartment just doesn’t make sense. Two terrible quality screens for the lyrics are posed between each set of microphones. At the sound of overplayed pop music playing, I look to the far side of the stage…Is that a DJ?! Stark, you dirty tech slut.

My boo, I mean Clint, greets me with his usual head nod and awkward bro hug. I pull my mask up so he can easily understand what I’m saying with lip reading.

“You got your songs picked out?”

“You know it! What about you? Gonna sing, I Believe I Can Fly?” I wiggle my masked eyebrows

“As you would say, isn’t that fanfic stereotypical?”

“Oooooh. Kiss me you fool!” My arms fly around his neck to plant masked lip kisses all over his face. He laughs and pushes me off to sign about how gross I am. Lovingly of course!

 

Dirty Tech Slut struts out in his douchiest get up that he could muster. He reeks of rich people sex. By the way! That smells like crisp hun’deds, fresh Polo shirts, Tom Ford cologne, tortured animal piss, and politician’s assholes (that smells like money, blood, and cheap lube).

Glaring at me is his loving way of acknowledging me. With a coo and wave back I get that exaggerated eye roll that I imagine is his orgasm face. No, really. It has to be.

America’s wet dream files in, followed by his sidekick, and Queen Spidey, Dr. Smashy even shows up! EEEEEE! Several non-Avengers crowd around, but who cares.

Like a scary little Rube Goldberg machine, Natasha menacingly whispers to Tony, who nods and motions to the DJ, who gives a thumbs up. Guess we are about to start! Although, seeing a bowling ball roll off the stage to tap a pin that then falls to ignite fireworks would have been better, I’ll accept the beginning of karaoke.

Tony makes a face, one I’ve not seen before, at Steve. If I didn’t know better, I would say that’s longing and hurt. Tony doesn’t have a heart though, weird.

As if my thoughts are visible on my masked face Clint speaks, “It’s exactly what you think. Steve called off the relationship though.” My head tilt, jaw dropping, and slow head motion to broHawk makes him laugh.

DJ “WizKid” spoke over the current song, “Up first, we’ve got Tom and Micah with 23 by Mike Will Made it! Give it up!”

The karaoke games have begun! I’m gonna wipe the floor with these loser.

 

Another Miley related song requested by a group of women with drinks in their hands is enough to make me part from Clint and head towards the food tables. My free food happiness quickly squandered when a side door opens and in walks Matt Murdock, the little hussy who’s been chumming up my Spid-

“Fuck.” I lowly growl and avert my gaze to the food. Of course DoubleD would show up late. Not only late, but WITH the very person I’ve been cut off from. The two slip into the back of the open floor to remain undetected from the nosy Avengers.

All the free food in the world can’t wash away the bitter taste in my mouth. Glaring at the current performance seems like my best course of action right now. Maybe they will catch on fire and make me feel better. Ooh! Maybe Tin Man will burst into flames.

“You okay?” the sincerity in Clint’s voice next to me allows my chest to release the breath I’ve been holding.

“Yeah.”

“Hey, we can do a duet.” Awwww, poor guy. I’m so glad he’s my friend, I laugh before answering.

“No, that’s okay. I’ll probably just watch tonight. I’m not feeling-“

 

 

“Up next we have Mr. Stark himself, he uh, wants the song to be a surprise.” Tony walks on stage and takes one of the microphones off the stands. Immediately the music and his voice ring out.

 

> _**We're all living in America,** _  
>  _**America ist wunderbar.** _  
>  _**We're all living in America,** _  
>  _**Amerika, Amerika.** _

Literally the whole room freezes in utter shock by the throaty singing that is actually really good, but I know where this is going and based off Clint’s face, he does too. Tony has lost his mind.

 

> _**Wenn getanzt wird, will ich führen,** _  
>  _**Auch wenn ihr euch alleine dreht,** _  
>  _**Lasst euch ein wenig kontrollieren,** _  
>  _**Ich zeige euch wie's richtig geht.** _  
>  _**Wir bilden einen lieben Reigen,** _  
>  _**Die Freiheit spielt auf allen Geigen,** _  
>  _**Musik kommt aus dem Weißen Haus,** _  
>  _**Und vor Paris steht Mickey Maus.** _

He’s actually singing the German well, but this is still wrong on so many levels. Yes, sing a German song about questionable American customs to your ex-boyfriend who served in WWII and is named Captain America! Holy shit, this man has truly lost his mind. That’s coming from me!  
Hawkeye darts his eyes from the car crash on stage and whips his face to me. His face is pale and mouth agape. In unison we look over to Steve Rogers himself, who is red in the face with anger.

 

> _**We're all living in America,** _  
>  _**America ist wunderbar.** _  
>  _**We're all living in America,** _  
>  _**Amerika, Amerika.** _

The good old captain had crossed his arms the moment Tony was on stage and now looks like he might shred through his shirt with his clenched hands. I spare a quick glance to Peter and Matt in the back, the pair is just as shocked as the rest of us.

 

> _**Ich kenne Schritte, die sehr nützen,**_  
>  _**Und werde euch vor Fehltritt schützen,**_  
>  _**Und wer nicht tanzen will am Schluss,**_  
>  _**Weiß noch nicht das er Tanzen muss!**_  
>  _**Wir bilden einen lieben Reigen,**_  
>  _**Ich werde Euch die Richtung zeigen,**_  
>  _**Nach Afrika kommt Santa Claus,**_  
>  _**Und vor Paris steht Mickey Maus**_.

Managing to belt out louder and angrier, the play boy starts doing hand motions all too similar to a certain baddy. Whose name rhymes with Gaydolf Witler. I’ve never seen Steve this angry, my cock hasn’t either and even he is scared.

 

> _**We're all living in America,** _  
>  _**America ist wunderbar.** _  
>  _**We're all living in America,** _  
>  _**Amerika, Amerika.** _  
>  _**We're all living in America,** _  
>  _**Coca-Cola, Wonderbra,** _  
>  _**We're all living in America,** _  
>  _**Amerika, Amerika.** _  
>  _**This is not a love song,** _  
>  _**This is not a love song.** _  
>  _**I don't sing my mother's tongue,** _  
>  _**No, this is not a love song.** _

We all suffer through the smog of hurt and betrayal within the air as Tony stubbornly finished the song. Before bowing and taking his leave. The two heroes obviously in a romantic falling out avoided each other’s venomous gaze. Talk about awkward. Where’s Jerry Springer when you need him?

Chatter began to pick up again as filler music replaces the heavy air. My throat feels tight, that was probably the harshest thing I’ve ever seen, and I’ve been sawed in half!

“What the fuck was that?” His breath is restricted much like my own. His eyes on Steve, then me.

“I don’t even know BroHawk.” Is the only answer I can offer my equally confused friend.

 

A new group of women pack the stage now, picking pop songs again. Thank god. We move away from the stage to the bar. It’s well stocked, very clean, with a cute little bartender. Gross. Clint orders drinks for himself and Nat who is bound to find her way to us.

I catch a glimpse of her consoling Steve. Of course, I don’t keep my eyes there. I’m too busy sneaking glances to Matt and Peter. I shouldn’t! I know, it’s driving me crazy. Their bodies are too close, touches lingering. Unaliving a certain Devil sounds so good.

 

 

“Alright folks we’ve got Your Woman by White Town. It’s all yours, Bucky!”

All right, I love this song! Oh, but if you read anything else this weird author writes, you’d know that already. I sang it while crying in bed over Peter not loving me. Wait. Oh, shit. Poor Bucky. Instantly Clint lets out a pained groan matching my own. Our friend is about to release a whole lot of emotions.

 

> _**Just tell me what you've got to say to me** _  
>  _**I've been waiting for so long to hear the truth** _  
>  _**It comes as no surprise at all you see** _  
>  _**So cut the crap and tell me that we're through** _

My shrewd little Winter Soldier is beginning to blossom on stage. I can’t help wondering why he has picked a heart break song. Looking out to the crowd shows how enthusiastic everyone is for our brooding friend to open up and show his talent. Until my eyes yet again, catch a glimpse at the sullen features of Steve Rogers. Who knows the intent of the song.

 

>   
>  _**Now I know your heart, I know your mind** _  
>  _**You don't even know you're bein' unkind** _  
>  _**So much for all your highbrow Marxist ways** _  
>  _**Just use me up and then you walk away** _  
>  _**Boy, you can't play me that way** _

Quick glance from Bucky to Steve and my heart hurts. I mean, I knew he always had deep rooted feelings for his idol, but this seemed to be getting at something. Maybe he finally told Steve, and Steve rejected him?

 

> _**Well I guess what you say is true** _  
>  _**I could never be the right kind of girl for you** _  
>  _**I could never be your woman** _  
>  _**I could never be your woman** _  
>  _**I could never be your woman** _  
>  _**I could never be your woman** _

There’s the anvil dropping on my head, crushing my bones and skin into a dead pool of Deadpool. Captain America is from the greatest time in history where being a raging homosexual was not only frowned upon but punishable. Steve has fought that for so long and even cut off advances from long ago with James. Something had to have happened.

 

> _**When I saw my best friend yesterday** _  
>  _**She said she never liked you from the start** _  
>  _**Well me, I wish that I could claim the same** _  
>  _**But you always knew you held my heart** _  
>  _**And you're such a charming, handsome man** _  
>  _**Now I think I finally understand** _  
>  _**Is it in your genes** _  
>  _**I don't know** _  
>  _**But I'll soon find out, that's for sure** _  
>  _**Why did you play me this way** _

   
The chorus repeats several times. Each passing word of the song makes Bucky break inside. Not that anyone noticed, no they are enjoying his voice. As a fellow man with severe internal struggles, I know the look of defeat and wanting to die. Clint looks at me, he sees it to. “I didn’t know he still has feelings for Cap.”

“They never go away. No matter how far the self-righteous ass you have them for pushes you away.” I grit my teeth in annoyance as my suffering friend leaves the stage. He’s quickly met by Tony who is looking to fight. Of course I’m up in that business as quickly as it began, right alongside Clint and followed by Steve.

“-sn’t love you Tony.”

“You think he loves you?!” Tony is puffed up. Bucky is making pained eye contact.

“No.” They all stop at the firm defeat in Bucky’s voice. Play boy pulls back, BroHawk pulls back, and America’s Wet Dream pulls back.

“Bucky…” Steve said softly.

“Don’t. It was just a song choice. I discovered it on Wade’s… eyepot?”

“Heh…ehhh. My iPod? Yeah… Is this where I left it.” All eyes on me as if I’ve ruined my best friend. Raising my hands to appease these fools seems like a good idea. I can’t help looking across the room to see if Peter noticed the fight I’m caught in. He’s gone.

“I’m leaving.” Bucky finally states before taking his leave. I snap my guilty eyes to the man leaving the group. Steve glares at Tony, who turns away and watches Bucky like I am.

 

“Allllllright! Last song of the night! Inside Out by Eve 6. Sheesh you people… Okay… so Take it away-“

 

I heard the awkward announcement but am too focused on the two leaders fighting over their feelings and not being a friend to a very hurt companion. I growl at both of them.

“Be men and go have a talk between the three of you! Please… “

They seemed to accept this; Steve’s eyes are soaked in tears wanting to fall. Regardless of who Steve ends up with, I know he will never leave Bucky’s side. You can’t stop a relationship that deep.

The duo turn to follow my very depressed friend just as a familiar voice began to sing.

 

> _**I would swallow my pride,** _  
>  _**I would choke on the rinds, but the lack thereof would leave me empty inside.** _

That voice used to say my name sweetly, ask how my day was, and tell me ‘I love you’. My feet won’t move fast enough to stand in front of the stage. I look up to the lithe nerdy body that stands on stage.

 

>   
>  _**Swallow my doubt, turn it inside out,** _  
>  _**Find nothing but faith in nothing.**_

His hazel eyes are closed as he sings and his recently cut hair is a little more tamed right now, but is still major bed head. His slender fingers are touching his chest and the microphone as if this song is serving a purpose. Oh, shit. I rip my mask off for the first time this night, not caring one bit. I want to see his face without cover.

 

>   
>  _**Want to put my tender** _  
>  _**Heart in a blender,** _  
>  _**Watch it spin round to a beautiful oblivion.** _  
>  _**Rendezvous, then I'm through with you** _

Yep, oh shit. He finally opens his eyes and looks right into my eyes. The song picks up and his stance changes into something more aggressive and doesn’t pull his eyes off of me.

 

> _**I burn, burn like a wicker cabinet.** _  
>  _**Chalk white and oh-so-frail.** _  
>  _**I see our time has gotten stale.** _  
>  _**The tick-tock of the clock is painful, all sane and logical.** _  
>  _**I want to tear it off the wall.** _  
>  _**I hear words and clips and phrases,** _  
>  _**I think sick like ginger ale.** _  
>  _**My stomach turns and I exhale** _

The entire room is excitedly singing along to the chorus with him, dancing even. Except me, of course. The person this is directed at.

 

>   
>  _**I would swallow my pride,** _  
>  _**I would choke on the rhymes, but the lack thereof would leave me empty inside.** _  
>  _**I would swallow my doubt, turn it inside out,** _  
>  _**Find nothing but faith in nothing.** _  
>  _**Want to put my tender** _  
>  _**Heart in a blender,** _  
>  _**Watch it spin round to a beautiful oblivion.** _  
>  _**Rendezvous, then I'm through with you.** _

  
He squats down to be eye level with everyone as he sings along to the song with fervor. Hazel eyes are burning into my very soul as he continues with his very obvious song selection. Shock and shame don’t even begin to scrape the surface of how I feel.

 

>   
>  _**So Cal is where my mind states,** _  
>  _**But it's not my state of mind.** _  
>  _**I'm not as ugly sad as you.** _  
>  _**Or am I origami, folded up and just pretend.** _  
>  _**Demented as the motives in your head** _  
>  _**I would swallow my pride,** _  
>  _**I would choke on the rhymes, but the lack thereof would leave me empty inside.** _  
>  _**I would swallow my doubt, turn it inside out,** _  
>  _**Find nothing but faith in nothing.** _  
>  _**want to put my tender** _  
>  _**Heart in a blender,** _  
>  _**Watch it spin round to a beautiful oblivion.** _  
>  _**Rendezvous, then I'm through with you.** _

  
I hate angry Peter. He’s a vicious little shit. Much like this song choice, he will say things to piss me off. But honestly? I hate myself more. I’ve made him feel things he doesn’t deserve. I’ve been sefish, I’ve been-

 

 

> _**I alone am the one you don't know you need,** _  
>  _**Take heed, feed your ego.** _  
>  _**Make me blind when your eyes close,** _  
>  _**Sink when you get close, tie me to the bedpost.** _  
>  _**I alone am the one you don't know you need,** _  
>  _**You don't know you need me.** _  
>  _**Make me blind when your eyes close,** _  
>  _**Tie me to the bedpost** _

  
-a sex crazed jerk. I wanted things between us to be the same and change, which is half assing. Things always change. They have to. I’ve messed up. I love him. I want him. The chorus repeats and he pulls himself together as the song ends. Those beautiful features erupt into a big smile, but behind his eyes lay the truth. He’s in no way fine with having just poured his heart out and having to look me in the eyes.

He gives a little bow before heading off the stage. Right to Matt. Fuck. I can fix this. He was saying I don’t communicate with him. Sure, I talk but feelings are hard when no one has ever given two shits about you. Peter, he cared. Peter also is a vicious bitter jerk who has been blowing me off and just picked a song that was aimed at ridiculing me. I can be bitter too.

Fiona Apple sounds good right now. I have been a bad girl. No, Criminal is more of a cop out song. I need romance…

I know!

Dashing around to the side of the stage to DJ McFucktard, I throw $600 at him and request my song plus a little theatrics from his old ass.

 

 

As I hop on the stage, my eyes scan for the adorable bed head. He’s already heading to the door to leave. I motion to my old man accomplice and he starts up the music. Slow guitar intro breaks out before the rest of the instruments start to fill in. Right before the queue to sing, I speak into the microphone,

“ **Hey, Baby boy...** ” I don’t dare look at him to see if he stops, I just start singing.

 

 

> _**Kiss me out of the bearded barley** _  
>  _**Nightly, beside the green, green grass** _  
>  _**Swing, swing, swing the spinning step** _

  
I open my eyes and smile brightly when I see he’s in front of the stage blushing up at me. I point down to his trademark ratty converse.

 

 

>   
>  _**You'll wear those shoes and**_

  
I give a small curtsy just for him.

 

>   
>  _**I will wear that dress**_
> 
>   
>  _**Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight** _  
>  _**Lead me out on the moonlit floor** _  
>  _**Lift your open hand** _  
>  _**Strike up the band, and make the fireflies dance silvermoon's sparkling** _  
>  _**So kiss me** _  
>  _**Kiss me down by the broken tree house** _  
>  _**Swing me, upon its hanging tire** _

I can’t help laughing out the line, its coincidence not going unnoticed by my little Spider either.

 

>   
>  _**Bring, bring, bring your flowered hat** _  
>  _**We'll take the trail marked on your father's map** _  
>  _**Oh, kiss me beneath the milky twilight** _  
>  _**Lead me out on the moonlit floor** _  
>  _**Lift your open hand** _  
>  _**Strike up the band, and make the fireflies dance silvermoon's sparkling** _  
>  _**So kiss me** _

I look over to my handy accomplice as the music slows, who gives the thumbs up. Gigantic Romantic Gesture Phase Two is now a go!

The microphone drops to the stage after I turn it off. My feet are quickly on the dance floor after a small jump, and once I'm invading Peter’s personal space I whisper, “I’m sorry…”

“Are we about to kiss?” He whispers back with a cheeky grin.

“Never.”

Those long arms find their home around my neck, my own fingers return to their home on his hips before our lips meet heatedly, the cue DJ Old Ass has been waiting for. As the music picks back up, he presses the button to his confetti canon.

All the Avengers panic at the loud sounds, including Peter. Who pulls out of the kiss to look up at the silver shimmering confetti in awe. I can’t help staring at the adorable way he holds onto his childhood wonder despite all he’s been through. I can’t lose this. He’s all I want. Our eyes meet again, my voice trembles with self-doubt, “I don’t ever want to be without you.”

“Neither do I.” That smile could end wars, those eyes could be stars, and they are for me. Quick reflexes has my Spidey capturing my lips again as the shimmering strips continue to flutter around us .

**Author's Note:**

> Song lyrics are probably the worst when it comes to getting them accurate. I copied and pasted most of the lyrics in an attempt to make them accurate. Inside Out is one of most lyrically complicated masterpieces and I'm certain parts of the lyrics posted here aren't correct. 
> 
> I tried to make 'em perfect!
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)
> 
> -DH


End file.
